


A Tale of the Stag and the Doe

by fanficwriterjilyotp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficwriterjilyotp/pseuds/fanficwriterjilyotp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily Evans disliked James Potter with a passion. Arrogant, immature, disrespectful, or in other words, everything she hated in a guy. So why in Merlin was she suddenly finding him...attractive? Begins after the end of Snape and Lily's friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of the Stag and the Doe

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you 'Phoenix', for being the best beta ever  
> Please comment! Tell me if you like it or think it can be improved, and tell me if you think I should continue it

Oh Merlin. Why does my face have to go so blooming red? I tell you, life would be so much simpler if I didn't have to look like I had somehow managed to transfigure myself into a tomato, every time I'm angry, (which is way more often than I would like), embarrassed, or upset.  
And what's worse, why do the damn tears have to fall? It's because I'm a girl. Yeah, that has to be it. Small tearducts or whatever it is. I don't cry when I'm alone. I haven't cried in front of anyone for a long, long time. So why in the name of Godric, am I howling like a banshee now, of all times, when I'm surrounded by every bloody person in bloody Gryffindor, in the common room? My best friends Marley and Iris are beside me, and I can distantly hear Marley threatening to curse the unsympathetic onlookers staring at me, either looking shocked, uncomfortable or amused, while Iris is patting me on the shoulder muttering something about me being better off now.  
I try to tell myself not to think about that greasy haired slimeball. I'm fairly certain he and his best death eater buddies are laughing at the little mudblood right this minute.  
Oh for pity's sake. Don't let the bloody tears fall, I tell myself. My tears aren't actually bloody of course. That would mean there was something very, very wrong with me indeed. Anyway, my brain naturally has to work against me. I have rotten luck, really. Because here I am, at 10p.m, sitting by the fire in the common room, bawling my eyes out pathetically.  
Pretty horrendous, right?  
I'm wondering how things could possibly get any worse, when I look up from my extreme self-pity, to find that I am currently alone in a room, with Potter. James blooming Potter, of all people.  
Where the hell did everyone else go? And how dare my so called 'friends' leave me? Alone? With him?  
Merlin's pants, there's something very, very wrong with me, because I've been telling myself to stay away from that arse, and for years we've constantly been bickering and name calling. It's not really my fault, is it? It has to be these stupid girl hormones or some shit, because suddenly in the darkness, with only the bright orange fire blazing in front of me, I see James Potter watching me, from the crimson sofa opposite me, he suddenly seems, well, different. Good different. I mean like, very, very good different.  
At the worst possible moment, I understand why nearly every girl in Hogwarts fawns over the arrogant bastard. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see him sitting there, unashamedly surveying me, through those bright, hazel eyes of his. I can hear his soft, deep breathing and feel his concerned eyes watching and waiting.  
I bring my knees to me chest, folding my arms over myself. Why in the name of Godric, Rowena, Helga, and, oh what the heck, I'll even throw Salazar in there, am I suddenly feeling the urge to, well, to talk to him?  
To be honest, I'm not in my right mind at the moment anyway, so why not? I'll have time to be ashamed of myself later. Slowly, I draw myself up, and give in to the temptation. To look at those bright, bright eyes staring steadily back at me. I suddenly feel conscious that I've never been alone in a room with James Potter before.  
And for Merlin's sake, is it really my fault that I feel nerves coming along? I'm emotionally traumatized! I've just lost a childhood friend to the blooming death eaters. I tell myself this, as I stare back at him, I'm suddenly noticing those light, gold flecks around his shiny eyes, when he speaks softly.  
"Hey"  
I want to be all friendly, and sweet and cheery, like all those girls Potter and his stupid Marauder gang hang out with. Suddenly, for the first time ever I feel like taking the easiest option out. Not confronting Potter. But that's just not me. And who wants to be like one of those boring girls anyway?  
Right, Potter. I'm mad at Potter.  
"Potter.", I reply, the contempt clear in my voice.  
"Evans, I-"  
"No.", I cut him off, forcefully, causing him to blink down at me, bright eyes wide behind his glasses, curious and confused.  
"Don't you try and act all blooming innocent now Potter." I pause, shaking my head furiously as he continues with that attempted innocent look. I see right through him, the damn prat, acting like he doesn't know what he's done. He looks like he's about to speak, when I flash him a murderous look, that shuts him up. Just yesterday, he was telling me I look absolutely 'adorable' when I do this look. I'm glad he's taking it seriously now. Oh yes, it's in his best interests to take me very seriously at this moment in time.  
"Do you have any idea why you frustrate me so much?" I spit out at him. He raises his eyebrows, and unless I'm mistaken, there seems to be anger behind his eyes. That fool has no right whatsoever to be angry. None at all.  
"Blaming the end of your friendship with Snivellus on me, are you Evans?" he says, his voice dangerously low.  
"It's your bloody fault and you know it!" I shout back at him, my voice rising in pitch and volume.  
"Even you, Evans, even someone as blinded by a completely unreasonable hatred as you, couldn't possibly explain your way around something like this." his voice is quiet, and Potter seems more serious than I've ever seen him be.  
"Hmm, let me think", I reply, stroking my chin in mock wonder.  
"Well, for a start you've been making fun of Severus since his first day at Hogwarts! Inventing a cruel nickname, and constantly teasing him."  
"And how, exactly does that relate to anything, huh?" Potter seems extremely angry now. His voice is shaking, and his eyes that seemed inviting and warm, just a few minutes ago, now seem dangerously cold and menacing.  
"He couldn't help it if he ended up in Slytherin! He just wanted to be like his mum, and that's not a bad thing." my own voice has started to tremble now, and I'm starting to lose the anger, only for it to be replaced by a horrible sadness. Potter's face softens slightly, but his tone is just as harsh as before.  
"Okay, so he ended up in Slytherin. But that didn't mean he had to turn into a death eater and make fun of muggle-borns or anything, did it? That was his own choice! Besides, he's been telling everyone of your birth from a muggle ever since he set foot in this place" Potter pauses, and I can tell he's been meaning to say all this for a while.  
"You just turn a blind eye to every bad thing he does. And you despise me for every bad thing I do."  
I can't look up at him anymore. The truth of what he's saying hits me like a boulder to the chest. I can't quite look up and meet his eyes. What had I been meaning to say before?  
"Well, Potter... I...What I meant to say is..." for once in my life, I was completely at a loss for words. That came out well.  
"Snape chose his friends. No one forced him to do anything. He went his way, and you should go your own from now on. Don't waste any more time thinking about that moron." Potter seems to sense my confusion. Instead of being arrogant, or a total knob like usual, he looks down at me, his features softer now.  
"I'm sorry, Potter" I say, swallowing back sobs that threaten to choke me. I force myself to continue before I convince myself not to.  
"I've been so...harsh. It's just that...Sev was my first connection to the whole magical world! Losing him...it's so hard!"  
"I know, Evans, and it's okay. I know I act like a prick sometimes, okay most of the time" Potter says, all harshness lost from his voice, and a whole new light in his eyes.  
"But if anyone deserves any form, of well cursing, it's Snape." He pauses, looking at me as if scared he's offended me in some way. I shrug, surprised that Potter is having a serious conversation for once, and tear my eyes away from him, to watch the bright fire ahead of us.  
"No one deserves to be treated like that you know." I say to him, softly. For the first time since I've ever met him, he seems anxious. Ha. That's right Potter, get down from that high horse of yours.  
"I do stupid, stupid things sometimes Evans." and he offers a dopey grin at me, and before I think about it, I've returned it, because when he smiles at me like that, oh Merlin, I can feel my heart beating so fast and so loudly that I can hear it in my ears. I smile at him unintentionally. I'm distraught, alright? Mentally unstable. I cannot be blamed. Eyes widening at my smile, he looks slightly relieved, and continues more confidently,  
"It's just, when I'm around, well, when I...when I saw you with Snape before, it just it pissed me off you know? Like, you could talk to Snivellus and all, the blooming death eater, and you wouldn't even look at me. That's the main reason I made fun of him.", he speaks in a rush, as though he needs to get all this off his chest, but the more I think about it, the more of what he's saying, starts to makes sense.  
I'm so bloody oblivious. He's right, I've been ignoring all of the stuff Severus has been doing, even though it's just as bad as what James does. And if my friend Marley is right, though I doubt it... If he really does...fancy me, well, I suppose it's bound to drive him up the wall. I watch him ramble on about something or other, and realise that at least Potter doesn't judge people for their birth status. Maybe I should apologise.  
"Potter, I'm sorry for how unfair I must have been to you." I pause, and get the feeling I should say something before his ego over inflates.  
"I still think you're an arrogant prick, you know, for cursing those Slytherins, no matter how much they deserved it, but, well, I've been determined to hate you from the moment we met."  
He gives me a stunned smile. For some reason, I decide that now is the perfect moment to remember how I've lost one of my closest friends today, and this overwhelms me, suddenly leaving me crying all over again.  
Stupid, stupid me. Instead of backing away, which I wouldn't have blamed him for, Potter comes and sits right beside me, on the small, comfy sofa. I can feel his warm breath on my neck, and his arms wrap around me, his hand reaching over to lightly stroke my hair. I feel him gently pushing my head onto his shoulder, and suddenly I've got my arms wrapped around him, and I'm crying onto James Potter's shoulder! Pathetic, right? But I just can't seem to stop myself. A small, insignificant part of me wonders whether I'm making a huge mistake. Whether I'll be a laughing stock tomorrow. But somehow, I feel warm and safe and comfortable here. With Potter.  
Oh Merlin, what is the matter with me? Up until now I've despised the arrogant bastard, and now, here I am, bawling like a three year old onto his shoulder. I stay there shamefully long after the tears have come and gone. His hand continues to make soothing, soft movements through my hair, and it's difficult to tell how long I've stayed here. Hours? At least 2.  
It's me who pulls away. And then immediately wish I hadn't, as I suddenly feel the cool, common room air hit my face, and the warmth leaving me. I curse myself for my idiotic behaviour.  
Determinedly looking at my suddenly very interesting hands, I can feel myself turning bright red again. I shuffle quickly away from Potter, and for a moment I think he might shuffle right up next to me again, like he usually would have.  
Well, would you look at that? James Potter, otherwise known all over as the boy with the largest head in the country, is actually taking things seriously! Merlin, if I had to choose between Potter, Peter Pettigrew (a boy who has never spoken to a girl in his life), Bellatrix Black (a death eater for crying out loud), or Marley's pygmy puff (Ronald), to be the one to comfort me in my state of mental instability, I swear that before today, I kid you not, that I would have chosen Potter last! I can feel his sharp gaze on me, and wonder if this isn't Potter. Merlin, that would be the perfect explanation!  
Maybe someone just as, if not more mentally unstable as me has just taken some polyjuice potion. That would explain it all. Bloody hell. Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll be off on his way. I'm planning to completely ignore the fact that he's here.  
"Evans?" Potter's voice sounds soft, and comforting. But there's a definite tone of triumph in there somewhere. Hmph. I've done it. I've gone and given him yet another reason to be an arrogant asshole.  
"Are we going to talk about this, Evans?" Potter seems a bit frustrated. I can't imagine why.  
"There is no 'this', Potter" I reply, looking up at him determinedly. He looks incredulous. Hm. Weird.  
"Evans, you sat here crying on my shoulder for all of an hour! And you're acting like nothing happened?"  
"You...caught me in a moment of weakness, alright Potter?"  
He looks up at me, and I can see that he's a bit confused.  
"I get it Evans. No really, it's cool." Potter wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, giving me an immediate urge to roll my eyes, or punch him in the face. I settle with rolling my eyes.  
"You finally want a bit o' this, eh? But, you're embarrassed? Shy?" James Potter grins at me so arrogantly, that instead of thanking him for comforting me, and being there for me, I want him to wipe that narcissistic smirk right off his face.  
"Stop being a part, Potter. It could've been anyone. You were just here." I glare at him, angrily, and his smirk fades just a little, before it's replaced quickly.  
"You're adorable when you're angry." he scoots over on the sofa, so that he's right next to me, and rests his head on my shoulder, making me want to punch him. But for some reason, instead of replying with a snappy retort, I realise I've turned bright red. Yet again. Suddenly James Potter's compliments are making me flustered? Great. This is exactly what I need right now.  
"This didn't happen Potter. I...I'm going to bed." I stand quickly, and walk briskly in the direction of the dormitory, when he calls out,  
"Evans, hey, Evans wait."  
I stop, waiting, without looking over my shoulder.  
"Can I have a-another hug", Potter asks, seriously.  
I turn around, to glare at him.  
"We never hugged, okay Potter? That never happened."  
"Well okay, but I mean, you wouldn't want everyone to know about our hour long cuddle, would you Evans, love?" Potter seems to know he's got me there, from the way he looks at me triumphantly. I sigh, exhausted and trapped.  
"Fine Potter, a hug. But never call me love again. It's fucking patronising."  
Potter bolts over to where I'm standing, and I feel his strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and suddenly I'm lifted off my feet.  
"Put me down Potter! That wasn't a part of the deal!" I try and push Potter away from me, but I'll admit it was a pretty half-hearted attempted. Potter gives good hugs, okay?  
"As you wish, Evans", Potter says quietly, as he finally puts me down. Suddenly, I realise we're standing far too close to one another. So close, in fact, that I can see every gold fleck in his hazel eyes...  
"Just as perfect up close, Evans" he whispers softly. Normally, I would have cringed at such a blatantly obvious attempt at flirting, but suddenly I'm blushing again so furiously, that I'm wondering whether I might as well just permanently dye my cheeks red.  
"Stop with the compliments, Potter", I whisper back, taking a sudden step back. Because you see, in my mentally unstable state, I suddenly have the urge to snog James Potter's face off. And this just proves exactly how unstable I am right now. So to minimise any damage caused by my unstable self, that I would have to fix tomorrow, I turn determinedly away from Potter.  
"And why would I want to stop, Evans? You look so beautiful when you're flustered like that. It's a sight for sore eyes."  
And with that, James Potter, now formerly known as the biggest flirt in fifth year, leans over and kisses my cheek, softly, before bounding up the boys' dormitory stairs, leaving behind a very, very stunned Lily Evans.


End file.
